At the next pause in Ginny’s anecdote, Jude excused himself, got up from the table and strolled outside. The deck of the Indian Harbor Yacht Club was chilly in the late September evening. An easterly breeze drifted in from Long Island Sound, causing the ladies to clutch their wraps and the men to drink more.

He peered across the water. Another seven miles beyond Great Captain’s Island lay his hometown of Oyster Bay, New York. It was too far away to see, but it was there: a mirror reflection of Greenwich, Long Island–style.

“Looking for something?” a female voice asked.

Turning, he gazed into the most wide-set pair of blue eyes he’d ever seen. They…